you might have me believing
by connectedanon
Summary: "Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you." A fic about Rachel and the unnamed Cheerio, who I like to call Gabrielle.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So, this is basically just a fic about Rachel and Gabrielle (as I like to call her) or "the random, beautiful cheerleader that was an extra during the "Tongue Tied" scene." I just wanted to get my headcannon for these two out of my head and out into the world, and since we know absolutely nothing about the girl, I let my mind have free reign over her character. So, here goes nothing, and I hope you like it. :)

Also, I'll leave this a bit open-ended, so I could leave it as is, or add more to possibly have it evolve into Faberry later on. We'll see.

* * *

When she walks through the doors into McKinley, she doesn't know what to expect. She half-sees a sign collapse down as Puck pushes Artie in front of her, and that's about it. It's quiet; eerily so, and her mind goes blank when she spots rows, among rows of people lined against the lockers, and two hockey players walking in their direction.

Large white cups, emblazoned with the red and white "Big Gulp" label on them.

She knows those cups all too well, and her initial reaction is to clamp her eyes shut, hold her breath, ball up her tiny fists, and steel herself. So, she does, and it hits her.

_Lightly._

Wait, back up. She snaps her eyes open, and is met with a flurry of confetti, and smiles all around. Well, then. That's... new. She can't help the grin that breaks across her face, her eyes crinkling at the corners as her entire face just beams.

Walking further down the halls, she's assaulted by colorful shreds of paper, and she tries to capture as much of this moment as she possibly can. She vaguely registers Puck's wide smile; Kurt getting hugged by a hockey player; Rory being pushed up against a wall by adoring girls; Quinn blowing kisses all around, and then...

There are flashes of red _everywhere_, really, but somehow the flitting of this particular red, lifting and spinning in the air, catches her eye. There's a certain bounce to the dark ponytail as its owner spins, and there's a smile etched on that face that Rachel is sure rivals her own, and suddenly, without thought or question, there are strong, feminine arms wrapping around her torso as the girl lets out a soft squeal of joy, and Rachel can't help but think about how lovely the girl next to her smells; like green apples, with a hint of Irish Spring soap.

As soon as they arrived, those arms are gone, and Rachel watches with rapt attention as the girl's hands are clapping her pom-poms together, and how she's cheering as Santana slips her arms around Brittany's back, dips her body, and leans in for a gentle kiss.

And when the girl whirls back around, and her eyes lock on Rachel's, that's when it all clicks in Rachel's mind; she needs to know who that girl is.

* * *

She doesn't want to draw any attention by asking Santana about the Cheerio, because lord knows she'll only be asked about thirteen questions before she gets any semblance of information relevant to the girl's identity, so she goes to the next person in line who'd tell her without any issue.

"Hello, Brittany," she says, casually approaching the blonde at her locker. "I trust that all is going well for you, and I must commend your spectacular dance moves at Nationals, which I believe I had forgotten to do earlier, but I'm sure you'd understand due to the overwhelming feelings which followed our win and-"

"Rachel, you're doing that thing where you talk too much, and take forever to get to the point, and I have to get home to check the footage on my video camera as soon as possible, because I'm convinced that Lord Tubbington has been eating my Fruity Pebbles so-"

"Right," Rachel states, nodding her head once. "I was wondering if you could help me identify a, uhm, a Cheerio."

"Well, does it tastes like Honey-Nut, or the bland kind that usually needs about six spoonfuls of sugar to taste good?"

"I- well, I don't think that much sugar is healthy, but I digress. Anyway- no, I meant a Cheerio, as in one of your teammates."

"Oh," Brittany says, whimsically, as she smiles lightly. "That kind of Cheerio. Okay. Yeah, what's she look like?"

"Uhm, a little taller than me, dark hair," she fidgets with her fingers a little, her eyes rolling upwards trying to recall more details, and suddenly she just blurts, "she looks like that one girl in High School Musical. Y'know, the one who ends up with Zac Efron's character."

"Gabrielle."

"Was that her name in that movie? Huh."

"No, her name was Gabriella, but the Cheerio is Gabrielle."

"Oh."

"Yup. Okay, well, I gotta go. See ya, Rachel."

And as Brittany spins on her heel, the stuffed unicorn attached to her backpack dangling, and walks away, Rachel just stands there and whispers to herself; "Gabrielle. Lovely."

* * *

Two days later, she's sitting in the auditorium, her fingers playing random chords on the piano just for the sake of doing something. She thinks she's alone, but the light sneeze that is emitted tells her otherwise.

"Gesundheit," she says distractedly, and then her neck abruptly turns to the left at the gentle "thank you," that follows, and her lip quirks up a little at the corners when she sees her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt or anything. I was just walking by and heard music, so I thought I'd check out the source. I mean, not _check out_-check out," she sputters off, nervously, "but like, check out to see who was playing, but speaking of... well, I guess I kinda checked you- oh, god. Sorry." She's bouncing from one foot to the other, her eyes scanning from left to right, and then just draws her lips inward, cutting herself off while Rachel manages a light laugh.

"No, it's- yeah. That's... yeah."

After a few moments of silence they both open their mouths to speak, and their voices overlap.

"It sounded nice; what you were play- sorry, go ahead."

"Do you sing, by chance- oh, whoops. Go on..."

"I was just saying that I liked what you were playing, is all."

"Oh, thanks. It was nothing, really. I was just messing around." She waits a few beats before adding, "do you sing?" and is slightly crestfallen when the reply is, "oh, god, no," followed by a quick, nervous laugh.

Gabrielle seems to note the small frown that her response elicits, and hurriedly adds, "well, I do, but not well. Like, barely shower worthy, but I do it anyways because it's always fun, even if I end up sounding like a goof."

"I could give you lessons," Rachel replies, a little too eagerly. "If you want, I mean. I've helped out a few of the Glee Clubbers, so I'm sure that with a bit of practice you'd maybe graduate to singing-down-supermarket-aisles worthy." She punctuates that with a soft smile that lets Gabrielle know that it was intended to be a genuine offer, the ending joke aside.

"Sure. I mean, I've got nothing to lose, except for my dignity, perhaps, once you actually hear me croak out a song."

"I doubt that you're_ that_ terrible," Rachel states, all serious-faced and certain.

* * *

Two weeks later, they're at Rachel's house. The tiny brunette's trying to hold in her laughter, one hand clutching at her stomach, while the other lands messily along the keys of her fathers' piano, causing a garbled note to ring in the air as Gabrielle sits next to her on the bench, ram-rod straight in mock-seriousness as she keeps her grin at bay.

"I _told _you; I'm just bad at this, and even the ever-flawless Rachel Barbra Berry can't help me," Gabrielle says, wistfully. The statement gives Rachel pause, and she bolts upright- a little too quickly- and ends up head-butting Gabrielle.

"Ooof."

"Ouch, oh, god. I'm sorry. Are you okay? Ahh, owie," Rachel's hand flies up to Gabrielle's forehead without thought, and starts pressing her fingers gently against it, checking for any signs of an already forming bump. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Gahh," Gabrielle whines.

"Sorry, sorry. Let me get you some ice, or peas, or something." Rachel fumbles a little to stand up to walk towards the kitchen, but Gabrielle places gentle hands on her shoulders and nudges her a little to get her to sit back down.

"I'm sure I'll live." The words come out in a rushed whisper, and her hands- still on Rachel's shoulders- are starting to sweat a little, but she's made up her mind, and her eyes are flitting between Rachel's confused eyes, and then down to her perfect mouth. She pulls her hands away, quickly, and rubs them against the fabric of her shorts.

She huffs out a nervous laugh before looking back up at Rachel, who hasn't moved an inch. Suddenly, she's leaning forwards, her hands landing awkwardly on her own knees, and pressing her mouth against Rachel's, and she just... stops.

Her body, honest to god, just freezes up, and she can't seem to either move her lips, or pull her head away. And, _oh god_, this isn't what it was supposed to turn out like. She wanted it to go a little bit smoother than that, and she's mentally cursing herself, and willing her body to just _do something. Anything!_

But then, Rachel lets out a soft sound, and her entire body just jerks back, knocking her off the piano bench, unceremoniously sending her tumbling to the ground.

"Shit," she hisses out, her hand sliding around the back of her upper thigh, where the corner of the piano bench scratched along her skin. When she pulls her hand away, there's a light tinge of blood on it, and Rachel jumps up and shouts, "First Aid kit! I'll be back!"

Fifteen minutes later, there's a thick wad of gauze being medical-taped to her thigh, and Rachel has this furrowed-brow-tight-lipped expression that's far too cute for Gabrielle to just stop her and say "hey, a Hello Kitty bandaid will do just fine," so she lets Rachel wrap up her "wound" while she tries not to gasp as Rachel's fingers drag along her skin.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles as Rachel puts on the finishing touches, and god help her, actually places a gold star sticker over the tape. "For, you know..." she trails off and just stares at her bandaged thigh, and the way the sticker glimmers in the light.

"No, that was- uhm," Rachel tries to soothe her, but can't seem to find the proper words.

"It was inappropriate. I shouldn't have assumed, I just thought- I don't know what I thought, actually."

"Don't apologize. You don't need to... I just... Can we..."

"Forget about it and move on, yeah, sure. I think that would be best," Gabrielle is quick to supply as she mentally panics at having ruined whatever friendship they were building towards.

"Actually, I was going to say," and all too suddenly, Rachel's hands are crawling along the floor, curving her body, and hovering over Gabrielle as her mouth descends and she places a soft kiss against her lips. She pecks them twice, scoots back a bit and finishes off with, "I was going to say that we could just try that, again; without any injury, this time."

* * *

_To be continued (or not... I don't know, yet)?_


	2. Chapter 2

"You can't _possibly_ be serious right now," Rachel half-shouts, dramatically, honest to goodness disbelief in her tone.

"I assure you, this is something that I take extremely seriously, Rach."

"But- but... _Taylor Swift_?"

"Are you insulting my musical taste? Because, that's just a tad bit rude," Gabriell mocks, sticking her tongue out to let Rachel know that she's joking.

"No, I'm not- I'm not saying her music is without merit-"

"That's exactly what you're saying, actually."

"Okay. That's what I _implied_, but how is it that, out of every singer to ever grace the world with their talent, she's your all-time favorite?"

"You're just upset that I didn't say Barbra or Liza or Patti. Admit it."

"I am shocked, naturally, but I would like to hear your reasoning, regardless."

They've been at it for almost two hours; discussing their favorite songs, lyrics, artists, etc. When Gabrielle let slip that her favorite singer was Taylor Swift, Rachel let it slide, and followed up with "but who is your favorite, like, _ever_?" And when the answer was the same, she actually cracked her neck when it snapped to the right so suddenly.

"Oh, no, no. That is a question you don't want to be asking me, trust."

"Why not?"

"Because I'd never shut up."

"I doubt that. I mean, how much can you say, really?"

Forty-five minutes later, Rachel leans over and presses her lips against Gabrielle's, and holds the touch for a few seconds. When she pulls away, Gabrielle just grins and says, "I told you so."

* * *

They spend their summer days just hanging around each other's homes; lazily laying in the grass at Hyde Park, four blocks over from Gabrielle's house; and occasionally catching the "new releases" at the discount theatre that plays over-a-decade-old movies. Rachel likes to think of them as dates, which they are, but they have yet to make anything official.

It's an early Saturday afternoon, and Gabrielle shows up at Rachel's house; her tiny, black coupe edging along the curb and smoothly coming to a stop at the end of the driveway.

Rachel spots her and shouts her goodbyes at her fathers as she hurriedly shuffles out the door and makes her way over to the car, sliding in and leaning over to peck a kiss to Gabrielle's lips before buckling up and saying "any idea as to what's playing, today?"

"Nope. I was going to look it up online, but I got sidetracked and forgot. And it's always a bit more fun showing up and being surprised, don't ya think?"

"Very true," Rachel states, her head nodding once, then twice. "So, sidetracked... care to share?"

"I was making you something."

Rachel bounces in her seat a little, her hands clapping together as she twists her body a little to the left to face Gabrielle. "What is it?"

"I'm not telling you, yet."

"Why not?"

"It's a surprise for later."

"I probably should have told you earlier, but I'm really, really bad at waiting for surprises."

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing that I can be resilient and won't crack and tell you what it is until it's time, right?" She looks over to her right after sliding into a parking spot and letting the engine sputter off. "Oh, my god. What- what are you- no. Stop."

Rachel's lower lip juts out just a teeny bit further, and quivers for a split second before she lets out a boisterous laugh when Gabrielle's hands fly up to her face and she groans "dear god, give me strength."

"Tell me, please."

"Okay."

"Wait- was it really that easy?"

"I meant okay, as in I'll tell you when it's time. Now, come on or we won't have time to get some snacks." She promptly removes her seatbelt, and hops out of the car, leaving Rachel just sitting there, staring at the closing door before she finally huffs and gets out, and follows Gabrielle inside.

They stock up on Blue Raspberry Icees, and and various candies before heading down the corridor to the last theatre on the left. There are approximately seven or eight other people already there, so they manage to score prime seating. When Gabrielle starts counting to herself, Rachel just watches her, amused smile on her lips.

"What?" Gabrielle says as she plops down onto the seat, and pats the one next to her, beckoning Rachel to sit.

"Why were you counting?"

"Oh."

"Go on..."

"I- well, it's silly, but I have to be sitting in the middle seat of the row. Don't know why, I just do."

"That's- kinda cute actually," and Gabrielle ducks her head into her own shoulder, blushing. "One question though; what if there's an even number of seats? Which one do you pick?"

"The one on the right. Always."

"Any reason as to why?"

"Yup."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"No," and Rachel's face falls a little, but the Gabrielle is prying the drink from her hand, reaching over Rachel to place it in the cup holder to Rachel's left, and adding, "I'll show you." She grabs at Rachel's hand, and flips it so her palm is upturned, with her own hand covering it palm-down. She intertwines their fingers lightly, and then starts to drag her thumb along the soft skin of Rachel's palm.

"I like to play with people's hands when I watch movies. To me, it's far more, uhm, intimate than just a regular hand hold, and it makes me feel just a little bit more connected; the touch drawing them in further, so they're aware of my presence," she explains, and Rachel can't really help the way her eyes slip shut and her head lolls towards her shoulder.

"That's- that feels nice," she admits, shyly, and Gabrielle just smiles softly at her, before the lights dim, and Hepburn's_ Funny Face_ starts playing. They sit in silence as they watch, occasionally making a few comments throughout. Rachel has to adjust to eating her candy with her left hand, but Gabrielle's thumb never leaves her palm, and she's very okay with that.

* * *

When they walk out, Rachel is raving about wanting to travel to France, simply so she could break out into "Bonjour, Paris" as she tours every landmark mentioned in the song, and Gabrielle's hand is still firmly grasping at Rachel's, not wanting to lose that connection.

Suddenly, Rachel stops, and Gabrielle is being tugged backwards. "Will you tell me now?"

"Not yet."

"Soon?"

"Yes," she laughs out. "Soon." Rachel seems to accept this, and doesn't ask again.

When Gabrielle parks outside of Rachel's house, she just tap, tap, taps her fingers along her steering wheel, and the reaches over the console and pulls open the glove compartment to retrieve a thin, rectangular item covered in silver wrapping paper with gold moons patterned on it and she sheepishly says, "I couldn't find a pretty one with stars, so I settled for moons, because they also shine in the night sky."

Rachel moves to unwrap it, but Gabrielle stills her hands and whispers, "not yet. Just- wait until you get inside," and Rachel just nods and mouths an "okay."

She leans her frame over the console and places a soft kiss on Gabrielle's lips before clutching at the gift, and heading inside, turning around and waving before slipping inside. As soon as the door slides shut, she sprints up the stairs to her room, to unwrap the present.

Inside, she finds a CD, a small note tucked inside the case. The outside of the note simply reads: _Don't open yet. Just listen first, and then read._

She wants to disregard the instruction, but a small chill runs up her spine, and she scrambles to her laptop and lets the CD glide in. The songs start to play, and she smiles to herself after the third Taylor Swift song.

Of course.

Then, she reaches track 13 and her ears perk up, because the voice is most certainly not Taylor.

She hears a gentle strum of chords, followed by a light hum and a delicately soft voice.

_Gabrielle's voice._

It's not perfect, a little flat on a few notes, but certainly passable. She's listening to the lyrics and-

_"Hey Rachel, I've been holding back this feeling, so I've got some things to say to you. I've seen it all; so I thought, but I've never seen nobody shine the way you do. The way you walk, way you talk, way you say my name. It's beautiful, wonderful, don't you ever change..."_

When the track is over, she hits repeat, pulls at the corners of the note in her hands, and lets her eyes scan the elegant script-

_Hey Rachel, _

_I know what you're thinking, and I should probably confess that I lied... kind of. I've been holding back a bit during our vocal lessons, but I practice at home all the time. I hope you're not mad; I just wanted to surprise you with the song and, yes, that was a Swift song that I sang (with a name change, and the pronouns, too). Anyway, here's to hoping that you enjoyed the songs, and I guess I should get to the real reason I made it for you: _

_Will you be my girlfriend? _

_xX Gabrielle._

Rachel lets out a squeal, and rushes to boot up Google Chrome, and clicks on the Facebook tab at the top, and hurriedly updates her status.

**Rachel Berry** "I can't help myself..." Yes.

Her face lights up when, three minutes later, the little red notification bubble pops up and reads: "_Gabrielle Kramer likes your status._"

* * *

******A/N:** the Swift song is "Hey Stephen," if you want to check it out. :)


End file.
